


A View from the Mountains: In Peace, Vigilance - Chapter Four.One

by Maple_Tartan



Series: A View from the Mountains: Tales of the Avvar [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Avvar, Chasind, Ferelden, Gen, New Holds, Peace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 11:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10740801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maple_Tartan/pseuds/Maple_Tartan
Summary: Emperor Gaspard has fallen at the hand of an Avvar-Fereldan alliance, bestowing upon the South a boon of peace. Now, an uneasy tranquillity in the air, the leaders remain vigilant.Note: Note: Though set after the fourth chapter, all the "Four.(number)" chapters are not necessary to the plot. However, I feel that their stories add depth and world building to future events.





	A View from the Mountains: In Peace, Vigilance - Chapter Four.One

The summer months finally found their way to the Frostbacks, bringing much welcomed warm weather to its frozen peaks. The Avvar rejoiced, returning to the fields to make due in preparation for another harsh winter to come. The mountains seemed to come alive as all left the confines of the hold to bask in the liberty of summer.

In Wyvern-Flame Hold, the augur was preparing, once again, for travel. Rankys often left the hold to consult diplomatically with other nations, holds, and especially Avvar living outside the Frostbacks. Though he was leaving, he was not abandoning his people with no spiritual advisor. When he left, his first apprentice would take his place, as a sort of training. They welcomed the opportunity and challenges it wrought, preparing them for when they took over full time.

Now, he stood at the hold’s entrance with a large pack, his signature loose-fitting robes, and staple warped wood staff. Those not working had come to say their farewells, along with the thanes.

“Another trip around the world, you’ll never run out of tales for the little ones.” said Tom, rustling the hair of a small child at his side.

“As they say, the world can always use the word of an Avvar.” said Sam, to the approval of the crowd.

“Be safe, we are not the spry young chickens we used to be.” said Leitis, thumping Rankys on the arm.

“Oh get over yourselves!” cried an elder. The crowd snickered.

“Alright, I’ll be off. Make sure I don’t return to a pile of rocks.” said Rankys. The people solemnly swore not to allow the hold to fall for chaos and he was off. He only walked for a few minutes, realising Leitis was not simply kidding. He once would walk for days on end, only resting for a few hours. Those times were slightly more urgent, but it was still a sign that the years were catching up to him. Now, taking to flight, he observed the lush landscape of the rugged highlands his people called home. He could see shepherds with their livestock and farmers preparing the soil. Kids frolicked about, not a care in the world. This was the world him and his friends had worked so hard to create, and the sight of it prospering was what kept him working hard at its preservation.

There was no need to visit the neighbouring holds. They spoke enough on a regular basis, as well as at the Council of Thanes, that meeting would be fruitless. Rather, Rankys’ first stop was Kinloch Hold. He soared above Lake Calenhad, observing the hustle and bustle of the prospering trade hub. The new tower was still under construction, its final floor filled with exposed beams and hard working stonemasons. Flying in through an open window to the tower’s rookery, Rankys entered the shared property of Avvar and Fereldans. After shocking the Sky Watcher tending to the birds, Rankys headed up the tower to see its leader.

Since the hold was theoretically controlled by all Avvar as a sort of coalition, the closest thing the locals had to figure of authority was head of the guards. Making his way to the floor where he resided, Rankys observed the decor of the tower. What was once stylised to fit the Andrastian occupants was now dedicated to Avvar tastes and their gods. As the tower had to be completely remade, it only resembled its predecessor in height and grandeur. The Avvar culture prioritised practicality over the fancy world of the lowlanders. However, as this was to represent a peaceful coexistence between the two, the thanes decided to pour resources into the project to have it seem extravagant and have a sense of lowlander tastes with Avvar markings.

While admiring the expertly crafted murals covering the circular corridors of the tower, Rankys found himself in the living quarters of the guard. Bunk beds lined the ring of room surrounding the winding stairwell. Snores of the nightshift filled the air, along with the scratches of a quill on parchment.

“How goes things, Faolan?” inquired Rankys as he entered his office.

“Awful, as usual. The King’s letters may be not the most eloquent reads but at least they’re legible.” responded Faolan, tossing a letter, scrawled in atrocious penmanship and terrible grammar.

“The lowlanders are probably simply surprised to see you write rather than wonder what the paper was for.”

“Too true.” Faolan leant back in his chair, grinning. “To be honest, things are looking up. When we first started running the show around here, we had multiple fights every single day. Now, the worst thing to happen is a lowlanders makes a sly comment and gets belted.”

“Good, we need this place to succeed. You cannot fathom the importance of what you do here.”

“If every day feels like a dual against Korth himself, I must be doing something of use. Anyway, you mustn't have come here to simply discuss my personal problems.”

“Correct, I am here to make sure the outpost is generating goods and order is well established. So, how’s security and profits?”

“Ah, well, security is fine, as I just said, and the sovereigns are flowing. The entire first floor is dedicated to merchant stalls, the second floor is an inn, tired merchants drink like fish. As well, the lowlanders are glad at least one room of our third floor was dedicated to Andraste, the rest is of course Avvarian.”

“Excellent, keep them comfortable, most of the business will come from them. If you don’t mind, I’ll be off, check out the tower and all.”

“Of course not, enjoy yourself. I won’t.” said Faolan, picking back up his illegible letter as Rankys left down the stairwell.

The third floor was nothing a lowlander would expect. Avvar religious practices were not quiet and involved many animal sacrifices, which definitely disturbed deep prayer. They took this as the Maker testing their resolve as they twitched every time a goat cried out the Avvar shouted. They assumed the Avvar would allow themselves to become an abomination for the religion, but they decided to remain willfully ignorant as they averted their eyes from the sinners.

The tavern beneath was hustling and bustling as the sun slowly set on the horizon. Merchants either immediately crashed in a rented room or drank away their day’s earnings. The drinks served were as diverse as the clientele; the odd Orlesian wine, thick Fereldan mead, filthy Dwarven lager, and hearty Avvarian ale. The bar was designed in a traditional roadside fashion; long tables with filthy steins covering the wood, kegs piled high behind the bar, and only enough torches to set the mood. The barkeeper's attempts were to make the place seem more welcoming than the rest of the tower, which seemed cold with its stone archways and mercantile atmosphere.

“What will you be having?” asked the bartender, after Rankys pulled up a stool.

“What sack mead do you carry?” he asked, leaning his staff against the bar.

“Avvar, Chasind, and Fereldan.”

“Umm, I’ll have some Chasind, try something new.”

“Good choice.”

After filling a tall stein full of the stuff and paying the bartender, Rankys took a massive gulp. Foam rested on the top of his beard as he sampled the flavours dancing in his mouth. As with all mead, it had a strong honey flavour. Accompanying the sweetness of honey was the taste of spring, blossoming flowers and fresh fruits. After this cacophony of flavours, he was blasted by the strongest bitter taste he had ever experienced. The bartender smiled when he saw Rankys’ eyes open wide in surprise. Suffering through the bitter taste, Rankys managed to finish his drink and order another one.

As it was being poured, a fistfight broke out between two men. One could assume one was Fereldan and the other an Avvar, but truly, the tavern was too loud to hear the argument that started it all. Each landed a punch before they were suddenly encased in a thin layer of ice.

“Now, your life is in my hands. When I unfreeze the both of you, you will go your separate ways and I expect an apology by the morning. Or I end you both right now.” said Rankys, looming over the both of them.  
The men muffled in agreement before the ice cracked away from them and they followed Rankys’ instructions to a T. There were small applause as he returned to his drink.

“Nice one. The guards normally just drag ‘em out but this time you embarrassed them, ought to be nice in the morning.” said the bartender, cleaning a mug.

“Bar fights are not out of the ordinary, it’s not something that especially concerns me.”

Rankys finished his drink and headed out for the night. Rather than sleeping in a rented room, he spent the night as a red fox, nuzzled into a shallow borough. Meeting the next day with optimism from the day before, he made his way to the Coastlands. His flight path brought him over the site of the battle that forged an alliance between Ferelden and the Avvar. The site itself was little changed from how it was before the fight, except a monument dedicated to those who had lost their lives for their nation that day, along with a few mourners.

Flying above the mountains of the Coastlands, Rankys could see the hold in which the Avvar had stayed within, before descending upon their foe. It had grown much since that day. Many of the injured soldiers, both Fereldan and Avvar, had fallen for the nursemaids and settled here. Although there was a significant Fereldan minority, the Hold remained staunchly Avvar. The Fereldans could remain Andrastian but spreading their faith met with exile. The hold was mostly a collection of dwellings made of strong stone and sod roofing with only the buildings of faith standing out. From where Rankys flew, they formed an image of a falcon. The people of Iron Hold cared more for birds than any other Avvar. Spotting the hold’s massive rookery, Rankys dove down and stood on one of the many perches within the tower.

“Ah, good to see you Crown-Slayer.” said Deidre Sea-Mane, the thane of Iron Hold. She stood with the Sky Watcher, looking up at the visitor.

“I’ve become too recognisable.” responded Rankys, shifting into human form before the thane.

“What calls for the visit?” she asked, a falcon of her own perched on her outstretched arm.

“Nothing major, just checking up on everyone.”

“Glad to see you lot are keeping us connected, any questions?”

“Glad to serve. How goes the Fereldans?”

“Things are always tense with them, their snide comments about how quaint our living is can grate the nerves but their children are being raised as Avvar and they keep their preaching away from out walls.”

“Good, you and Kinloch Hold should get in touch. What of the winter?”

“This one was harsh, has been ever since our population’s boomed. As with all our holds, we spend our spring through to winter preparing for the eventual snowfall, but things are constantly dire. We rob the children of a childhood, as they join their parents in spending every waking our scrounging for supplies.”

“Understood, I’ll see if I can broker a deal with Alistair or the other holds to increase your reserves. Any other concerns?”

“That is all, you’ll be sure to hear from me if anything comes about. Are you to stay the night? We are performing a sacrifice this evening, it’ll be our pleasure to have you involved.”

“Trust me, I’d love to duty calls. I ought to speak to Alistair before the day’s end about our resources. I’ll be sure to make a special day to pay a ceremonial visit.”

“And we shall look forward to that day to come.”

The two exchanged a polite smile before Rankys shifted back as a falcon, heading out the rookery and straight for Denerim, reaching the city by sundown.

He descended down before the palace guards and reverted back to human form before their eyes.

“Your King should be expecting me.” he said, his face shrouded beneath his cowl as he leant on his staff. One guard entered the palace while the other stood tall, having to still glare upwards to the Avvar.

“The King waits for you in his study, ser.” said the guard, poking his head from around the door as it swung open. Rankys silently entered the palace, only exchanging shallow nods and glances as he passed the many servants and remaining guards. The study door slowly creaked as he nudged it open.

“Welcome, friend. Always nice when you visit, you could send me a letter before you show, however.” said Alistair, already lounging in his desk chair, facing the door, clad in casual wear.

“Sorry about that, I tend to like catching my hosts off guard.” said Rankys, revealing his pale face as he leant against the stone wall.

“Although I enjoy your company, you rarely come for simply a bought of ale kind chit chat.”

“You know me too well. I have a request out of Iron Hold, as of the migrations after the war, their hold has been barely staving off cannibalism as the winter months come and go. They request food reserves as to help build a base of food as so they can live a more stable existence. It would be good for you to know that a large population of --”

“Done. The grain is yours.” Rankys simply frowned in retort. “The yields from the Bannorn have been particularly substantial since our alliance. Bandits find no safety in your mountains so we keep our farms safe, along with the end of the raids. The least I can do is share the boon of our shared prosperity with my friends.”

“Well, I am astonished. Thank you so much, be sure that I shall repay this debt.”

“Don’t worry about it, coming to my home for more than political talk will be enough.”

“I’ll be sure to take you up on the offer. However, I must be heading out now. I have a meeting with our shared ally.”

“Oh, I wish you the best of luck.” Alistair smiled.

“Thank you, your grace.” And with that, Rankys had taken to the skies, barely squeaking through Alistair’s open window. After spending the night in a freshly dug foxhole, he soared over the tall peaks of the Frostbacks, taking special care to spot Wyvern-Flame Hold. The hold remained standing, no destruction from what he could see. Some peoples of the hold noticed the large bird flying over them and waved, prompting Rankys to caw in return.

The augur’s flight ended in Val Royeaux, after circling above the massive hub of culture, trade, and empire. The city was the largest anmarvellousrvelous site Rankys had ever seen. The grand spiralling towers and elegant decor were a beauty to behold. While it was in tradition for the Avvar to harbour disdain for the extravagance of lowlander life, especially Orlesian, he could not lie that this city was not awe inspiring. Not far from the main city stood the Imperial Palace, now residence of Celene I after her cousin’s capture. The palace managed to flaunt the wealth of Orlais stronger than the extravagance of the city, gilded beauty emerging from every stone in its architecture. Before its massive gold doors, was an extensive garden surrounding a tall fountain, hosting a selection of rare fish. Among the stark white towers, was a large bell, now ringing to signal midday. Rankys, taking this all in, swooped about the palace until he found the Empress’ study and entered through her open window.

Landing, he shifted human form out a puff of black smoke. To his surprise, Celene had yet to look up from her work.

“Welcome to the Imperial Palace, Rankys Ar Mortil O Wyvern, or should I say ‘Crown-Slayer’?” she said, her eyes fixated on her pen. She then elegantly dipped her ring in warm way before sealing the letter and adding it to a small pile.

“Your spies are remarkably well informed.” said Rankys, approaching her desk.

“Of course, you must be aware by what doing what you have done, you have brought your kind into the Grand Game and you can hide nothing from me.” Only now did she meet Rankys’ blank stare.

“Thank you for the information. Seeing as you are all-knowing, you must know why I am here.”

“To broker friendly relations between us. I have some proposals on the matter, however, let it be known that the centuries of raids and slaughter from your people will never be forgotten, only built upon.”

“Likewise. What is your offer?” He remained standing, looming over her small figure while she remained unfazed.

“I propose a sort of cultural exchange. I have been out of an arcane advisor since she became an advisor to the Inquisition and from what I know, your people have some unique magical practices that intrigue me, and that will undoubtedly be of academic aid to the University. In return, I shall provide your people with an expert of the Grand Game, whose knowledge is sure to come in essential in the future.” While she spoke, she presented resumes to her visitor. Each entailed a long and illustrious history in Orlesian politics of dozens of nobles.

“Thank you, your grace. I will be sure to discuss this with the others and return with an appropriate advisor.”

“Wonderful. Now, if that is all.” she said, pulling the string of a small bell. An elf servant swiftly entered the room, piled Celene’s letters on her chest and left the room. Rankys nodded a thanks and left the study as he had come, invisible in the dark of night as he flew over the Frostbacks to the Southron Hills.

The hills dominated the marshlands below. The Avvar of the area were settled at the peaks, connected by massive bridges, some stone, many of decaying rope. Between the mountains were large basins of water, full of people frolicking about and casually fishing. Where the thane resides was clear as one hill was the centre of many of the stone bridges and held a massive home. Descending upon the Drowned Hold as the sun rose, shifting to human form before the thane through the open doors.

“Always a flashy entrance!” said Frang Sunken-Axe, thane of this hold. While he spoke, small children rushed Rankys, seeing his as a fun uncle who visits a few times a year with fun presents.

“Happy to show off to you lot!” replied Rankys, lifting the thane’s son over his shoulder and spinning him about.

“As I am sure the children would love to spend time with you, I have received word from Deidre of your visit.” while he spoke, the children scattered out of the grand hall.

“Word travels fast.”

“Nearly as fast as yourself, word came just last night.”

“Good, wouldn’t want you to make a fuss.”

“Humble without fail. As for your questions, what is it you would wish to know?”

“Nothing specific, just the general status of the hold.” Rankys now stood directly before the thane, sitting relaxed on his stone throne.

“Oh. Well, things have been looking up since the war with the Fereldans. When they chased us from our homes, they didn’t destroy the existing buildings so when we returned to resettle, we were greeted by a pleasant surprise. Ever since we have all decided to stop our raiding, supplies have been low but we always manage to get by. However, there has been a suspicion as of recent. The Chasind and us have always had a contentious relationship but they have also stopped their raids.”

“I see, what do you make of this?”

“I find it extremely unusual. From what I know, the Chasind have not united or anything of the sort. So their combined effort to stop fighting us concerns me. Maybe they’re amassing a substantial force for a surprise attack, your guess is as good as mine.”

“Interesting. I will discuss this with the others, perhaps we’ll send reinforcements your way just in case. Anything else a bother?”

“Um, don’t think so. Now that we’ve concluded proper business, shall you stay the day? I’m sure the hold will be thrilled.” said Frang, with a genuine smile stretched across his scarred face.

Rankys swiftly contemplated his schedule. He had no more visits to attend to and he was exhausted from all the flying about. “Sounds lovely, I sure need the rest.”

And with that, the visitor spent the day providing advice, entertaining the younglings, and performing sacred rites. The evening was spent at the head of a light feast, evidence of the start of winter preparations. The moons of Thedas rose into the sky and rather than flying off home, Rankys slept in a bed more luxurious than the thane’s, covered in mounds of fur and idols at its feet. He rose from his deep slumber the following morn, said farewell to the people of Drowned Hold and made his way back home.

The flight was nice, the beautiful world below light by the warm glow of the Sun. Reaching Wyvern-Flame Hold by midday, he shifted to human form at its stone gates.

“Welcome home, augur.” said a sentry as the gates slowly opened.

“Good to be back.” replied Rankys, flocked by his people, glad to see their spiritual leader return. However, some friends were missing. “Where are the thanes?”

“They remain in the throne room. A visitor came in the night and they’ve been with him since.”

Rankys politely made his way passed his people, through the beautiful hold, and to the throne room. Within were Sam, Leitis, and Tom, each sitting on their own thrones before a stranger. This new fellow was short, smaller than Sam, and wore animal pelts painted with red dye. He turned when Rankys entered the room, revealing his tattooed face, distinctly marking his a non-Fereldan.

“There’s the big bastard himself.” he said, throwing his hands in the air and laughing.

“And who are you?” asked Rankys, standing still at the room’s entrance.

“Neel here is a Chasind leader out of the Korcari Wilds. Apparently, he leads a large force who are the reason Drowned Hold have not been suffering from raids. According to him.”

“He speaks the truth of Drowned Hold, although this is the first I hear of its cause. What is it he wants.”

“An alliance.” said Neel, before Sam could respond. “My tribe has gained much power in the Wilds. Enough as to place our protection over your hold in the Southron Hills. For our protection, we seek yours in return. Power is fleeting in the wetlands, I seek to change that and your support will help me ensure this, along with providing you with an ally in the region.”

Rankys listened intently before looking to the others for approval, they all nodded in turn.

“I cannot guarantee what the other thanes may say but I will spread the word and send you a response within the month.” replied Rankys, walking passed the visitor and leaning against Tom’s tall throne.

“Good. I’d love to stay but I have already been away for too long. I hope to see you in the future.” He left the throne room and went directly through the hold, back South to his home. With him gone, Rankys laid before his friends, exhausted.

“Had a good trip?” asked Leitis, smiling.

“Oh, it was fabulous. Alistair has agreed to provide food reserves to Iron Hold, Celene and us are going to have a cultural exchange, and we may be bulking up our military presence in the Korcari Wilds.”

“Sounds thrilling.” said Sam, placing a mug of ale by Rankys’ side.

“It actually went pretty well. Our allies have been much more level-headed as the months passed. How were the days here?” said Rankys, taking a well-earned swig from his mug.

“Your apprentice is going to be sad to hear you’ve returned. She’s been having the best time playing augur, organising duels and other contests to the gods alongside rites. One man was not happy with the results and threatened her life, alongside declaring she had no authority without you present. She responded by charging him to pay double. He backed off after she shifted into a bear and roared his hair on end.”

“So nothing out of the ordinary?”

“Yep.” And with that, the four of them were still in the silence, enjoying a few moments of calm.

“You know what?” said Tom, rising from his throne to face the others.

“What?” replied Sam, chuckling.

“We need a day to ourselves. Hide away from the politics and drama of the outside world, just for one night.” There was silence in the room as they made eye-contact with one another and frowned in confusion. “The last time we simply spent the day hanging out was back with the Inquisition. We need some time off, to wind down.”

“Maybe he has a point.” said Rankys, leaning forward from the stone floor. “Perhaps, if we were to clear our heads it would provide us a fresh viewpoint for the future.”

“Ah yes, let’s justify our laziness and pretend it’ll help the people.” said Sam, smirking.

“There, we’re all in agreement! Today is a day of relaxation.” said Leitis, raising her hands to the sky. The four of them cheered and began the preparations. Tom and Rankys addressed the people, explaining the situation and encouraging the rest of the hold to join in and relax on their own as well. Sam and Leitis hauled out the good casks and prepped the cave for an evening of repose. The four leaders of Wyvern-Flame Hold spend the night drinking themselves into a stupor, making ridiculous jokes, and causing a general ruckus. Simply, they enjoyed themselves for the first time in a long while. The days to come were bright and full of hope for the Avvar people, for the first time in many ages.


End file.
